


Neptune Drabbles

by estepheia



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estepheia/pseuds/estepheia
Summary: Life's a bitch and then you cry
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	Neptune Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marcee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marcee/gifts).



> How the Others Live - Logan - PG13 - angst, set during Christmas 2006  
> Rage - Logan - PG13 - set during 2.09 - for Marcee  
> Crossroads - Weevil - PG - spoilers for 2x05 - for Marcee

**How the Others Live**

The suite is empty without Duncan, and way too silent.

Good old Duncan. The white sheep of the family. Logan pictures him with his parents in their quaint Sun Valley retreat: all snug in Norwegian sweaters, happy as clams, slurping iced oysters, after skiing all day, waiting for Santa.... Okay, forget the sweaters.

Jake thinks he’s God’s gift and Celeste is a bitch, but as parents come, they’re not so bad: Jake didn’t bash Lilly’s brains in, and Celeste is alive.

Some Christmas.

Logan’s too old to cry himself to sleep. So what? There’s no one there to mock him.

**Rage**

As he sits in Principal van Clemmons’s office, the taste of blood in his mouth, his knuckles smarting from hitting Tattoo boy, Logan can’t help wondering whether he’ll end up like his dad.

Trina’s lucky. She’s adopted.

Trina doesn’t have the Echolls gene, doesn’t know how good it feels to be angry. Doesn’t know how good it feels to hit and pummel someone with your fists till he goes down and then to carry on kicking…

Trina doesn’t know the kind of blood-red rage that shattered Lilly’s skull with an ashtray.

But Logan is getting a feeling that Weevil might.

**Crossroads**

Lines. The world is full of them. The lighter in his pocket says he’ll cross one tonight. And this time even Veronica won’t bail him out. But he’s cool with that. He’s always known where he’s heading. Not Stanford, not Harvard, but St. Quentin or Corcoran. Because Justice’s a bitch who’ll spread her legs for anyone, as long as he’s rich, famous, and white.

He knows, without having to turn, that his boys are behind him, wingmen, watching his back. Ready to cross the line with him.

The Echolls estate is dark and deserted.

The fence is easy to cross.


End file.
